


Sex Education

by The_lazy_eye



Category: Anne of Green Gables - L. M. Montgomery, Anne with an E (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Cunnilingus, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, Dominant Gilbert, Enthusiastic Consent, Established Relationship, F/M, Gilbert and Moody are BFFs I don't make the rules, Gilbert is a good friend and a good boyfriend, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Smut, Vaginal Fingering, slippery when wet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-30
Updated: 2020-07-30
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:46:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25600804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_lazy_eye/pseuds/The_lazy_eye
Summary: Gilbert takes a moment to breathe. It’s not that this is a difficult conversation to have. On any other day, he’d breeze through it and walk away feeling confident and half for having helped his friend. But today is not any other day.No, today Anne is over.
Relationships: Gilbert Blythe/Anne Shirley, Ruby Gillis/Moody Spurgeon MacPherson
Comments: 31
Kudos: 199
Collections: Shirbert smut





	Sex Education

“You have to help me, man!” Moody finishes his desperate rant with a panicked look in his eyes. “Please.”

This isn’t exactly how Gilbert planned on spending his afternoon. Especially not when...

_“Please!”_

“Alright, jeez,” Gilbert relents, hands up in complete surrender. Looks like his plans are going to have to wait. “What do you want to know?”

“Everything! Anything! I swear, she’s going to be the _death_ of me. You should have seen the way she looked at me. I – I thought I was going to... to _explode_. Her eyes were so dreamy and her lips... Gilbert, her _lips_. The way she kisses me – I had no idea what to do!”

“Uh huh,” Gilbert says, sitting down and pushing his chair back so it’s balancing on only two legs. Moody takes the hint and settles himself and his anxiety into the chair across the table. “And what is it you think she wanted you to do?”

“Touch her!”

“Touch her? And you know that for certain?”

“Gilbert,” Moody says, leaning over the table and pressing his palms into the wood. “She placed my hand on her,” his voice gets quiet, as if it’s a solemn secret only to be whispered between two bros, “ _her breasts_.”

“ _Oh, no_ ,” Gilbert can’t stop himself from laughing, “Her _breasts_. How terrible!”

“This is serious!”

Moody looks close to tears now, so Gilbert relents his teasing and lets the legs of his chair, previously suspended in air, clatter back down to earth. “Sure, alright, lay it on me. What exactly do you want to know?”

Moody turns a delicious share of bright red; the kind Gilbert closes his eyes and dreams about.

Only, not on Moody himself. On another…

“Do I,” Gilbert waits patiently for Moody to get his words together. “Do I squeeze them?”

“If she likes, yes,” Gilbert nods.

“How do I know?”

“Ask her.” A smile crawls over Gilbert’s face.

“That won’t be awkward?” Moody asks. His voice is nothing but sincere mixed with a little embarrassment.

“No,” Gilbert hums. “Girls like it when you ask them what they want. Not only does it make things easier to understand, but it’s pretty hot.”

Moody sits back again, a thoughtful expression crossing over his face. While he processes this new and probably completely surprising information, Gilbert takes a moment to breathe. It’s not that this is a difficult conversation to have. On any other day, he’d breeze through it and walk away feeling confident and half for having helped his friend. But today is not any other day. No, today Anne is over.

And she’s waiting for him upstairs.

“So, I squeeze them?”

“Yeah, sure,” Gilbert shrugs. “I prefer to kiss them, though.”

He can’t help but imagine her now, as he chats with his friend. Spread out on the sheets, _waiting for him_...

“Kiss them?” Moody shrieks. The sheet pitch of his voice is enough to shatter glass. “You kiss them?”

Blouse unbuttoned and resting open against the bed. Hair splayed and lighting the entire room on fire.

“Yes, I do.”

Again, Moody falls silent. When he speaks again, his voice is shy, as if he’s unsure of his next words. Gilbert allows his mind to continue its checklist of his beloved. When the doorbell rang, he didn’t expect to get caught in a flurry of questions and desperation, but at least his memory had catalogued how Anne looked before his hushed _I’ll be right back_.

“Where else do I use my mouth?”

“Anywhere, as long as you have permission.”

“Anywhere,” Moody says, his voice heavy with consideration. It’s not a question this time. Gilbert can’t tell if he’s embarrassed or contemplative.

“Yes, Moody. _Anywhere_.”

He thinks of his own anywhere’s. Of how he trails his mouth down the pretty column of Anne’s neck and how she sighs and arches into him; of how he wraps his lips around the stiff peak of her nipples, laving his tongue over the sensitive skin until she’s whining from the sensation; of how he kisses down her navel until he reaches the place they both want him most, where he can eat her out until she’s gasping and shaking under him.

“What if she wants to go all the way?” Moody asks.

“Moody,” Gilbert sighs, shifting uncomfortably to adjust his now too tight pants. Why today, of all days? “This is probably a conversation you should have with _Ruby_ , not me. I can’t tell you what she likes and wants. And if we’re being real here, if you _can’t_ have this conversation with her honestly and openly, you shouldn’t have sex yet.”

“I know,” Moody relents. His entire body screams defeat. Even though Gilbert only has about a quarter of his sanity left, he still feels a little bad for his friend. His _best friend_. The same person he fondly called _bro_ in high school back when they wore backwards snapbacks and thought they were _so cool_ , only to cringe at their younger selves when they hit college.

The same person whose dorm bed he cried in when he found out Anne was dating Roy. Moody bought them both ice cream and binged Gilbert’s favorite romantic comedies all night.

Moody was the first person to find out about the night, months after Anne broke up with Roy, when Gilbert finally cut his heart out and gave it to her on a silver platter. He knows every detail – from Gilbert’s muddy jean cuffs to the way Anne tasted like cherry Chapstick – because he listened with rapt attention while Gilbert gushed.

Likewise, Gilbert was there for all of Moody’s ups and downs. From his futile crush on one miss Diana Barry to the day he made the distinguished honor roll for the first time their senior year. He held Moody’s hand when his grandmother died and held his barely conscious body over the toilet on his twenty-first birthday.

He owes Moody his support. Not because their friendship is based on a barter system, but because he loves him. He cares about him. He wants him to succeed and feel comfortable.

He needs to get his head out Anne’s pants and back into this conversation.

“What’s this really about, Moods?”

The sigh that Moody lets out is loud enough that Anne might hear it upstairs. “What if,” He starts, and then stops. His words are obviously caught in the back of his throat and Gilbert watches as they bob up and down with his Adam’s apple. “What if I’m bad at it? Like, what if I let her down or something? I don’t think I could handle that.”

And there it is. Moody looks up at the ceiling and Gilbert can see the heavy weight of water in his eyes. “Hey,” Gilbert starts, trying to catch Moody’s attention and bring him back down. “It’s you and Rubes. There isn’t a single bone in your body that could disappoint her. Remember how you asked her out? It was a complete disaster and you both ended up covered in cold water and paint. You ruined her shirt. Other girls would have lost their shit, but she didn’t even notice. She only has eyes for you. _All_ of you, no matter what you’re doing.”

Moody lets out a dry chuckle at the memory.

“All first times are weird, man,” Gilbert continues, clearly on a roll with his motivational speech. “It doesn’t matter how good you are or how cool you look. All that matters is that it’s you two, together and having fun.”

“Okay,” Moody breathes. All the tension in his body seems to unwind slowly as he chews on what Gilbert said. He’s clearly still nervous, but there’s calm that seems to be sweeping over him. He’s not leaking confidence yet, but that’s to be expected.

He’ll figure it out. Gilbert _knows_ he will.

“Do you have any advice?” Moody asks. “Like, any tips or tricks? Things to avoid?”

Gilbert can’t help the way his mind goes straight back to thinking of his Anne and how she’s probably frustrated by now. He can see the way the corners of her mouth are probably turned down into a sharp frown, or how her eyes are steely as she waits for him.

He feels a little bad when he thinks of how he left her, a blossoming hickey on her neck and her jeans unzipped and shoved down just far enough for him to –

“Well, for starters I think the best thing is an open line of communication. If she doesn’t like something, she needs to feel comfortable telling you even if you’re in the middle of doing it. And even if she _does_ like something, you need to know. You can ask her as you go, that’s the best way to keep the conversation going, I think.”

_Do you like that, Anne-girl? Do you like my teeth on your skin?_

“And don’t be afraid to tell her what you like and how you’re feeling. That’s just as important. Sex is a partner dance. You can’t forget about your own needs and comfort.”

_Just like that, baby, oh god, please don’t stop._

“What did you and Anne do your first time? Did you go all the way?” Moody asks. The pros to having a best friend is that you two can talk about anything. The cons are when he asks questions like that.

“We started small. A little bit of dry humping, some second base.”

“That’s hands, right?”

 _Gilbert, your hands are so big. How are your hands so big? Why does this feel_ so good?

“Yeah.”

A small bead of sweat makes its way down the back of Gilbert’s neck and under the color of his shirt. God, it’s hot in here. Was it always this hot?

“What about,” Moody says, voice really quiet, “fingers? Or mouths? You said you use your mouth.”

“Eventually,” Gilbert says simply. He can’t start thinking about Anne’s fingers on him. Or his fingers in her. Or, god forbid, either of their mouths anywhere. If he pops a full boner in front of Moody he’ll never live it down. “It doesn’t have to be all at once. Take it slow, Casanova.”

“Take it slow,” Moody repeats. “Yeah, I think I’ll do that.”

He sounds like he comes to this conclusion all on his own and Gilbert doesn’t quite have the heart to correct him. He just smiles and nods.

They talk for a little while more, Gilbert making sure to put Moody’s anxiety at ease before reminding him to pick up a bottle of lube and a few boxes of condoms on his way home.

You know, just in case.

The second the door clicks shut Gilbert is tearing up the stairs. He moves so quickly and carelessly that he knocks into the banister and the bottom and the wall at the top. He’s not quiet or graceful by any means, but at least he’s fast.

He crashes into the room, throwing the door open so hard it slams against the wall and bounces back into him. He doesn’t register the pain because all he sees is Anne, propped up against his headboard and just as half-clothed as he left her.

She’s got her phone out, was probably scrolling through Pinterest or something, but her head snaps up as soon as he comes in. The only emotion he can read on her face is boredom. There isn’t an ounce of fire there anymore. No more coy teasing or excited anticipation.

Just pure unamused boredom as indicated by a single cocked eyebrow.

“I’m so sorry,” He blurts out.

Slowly, Anne puts her phone down on the nightstand. Her eyes drag from his, down the length of his entire body, and then back up to meet him in his gaze. She clicks her tongue and swipes it along her front teeth.

He’s mesmerized by that simple action alone. The sight of her pretty, pink tongue is almost enough to black out his entire brain.

“And what was so important?”

“Moody came by,” He starts to explain, but quickly realizes she doesn’t actually care about the answer. Not with the way her eyes continue to inspect him. Not with the way she shifts into a more comfortable position; one that leaves her open and inviting on the bed.

Her shirt is still open and his eyes catch on the pale expanse of her chest and stomach. There’s a little freckle that sits right above her belly button.

He doesn’t finish his sentence. Instead, he kicks the door shut and all but _crawls_ onto the bed so he can get his mouth on that goddamn freckle. His teeth gently sink into the supple flesh of her belly and he hears the surprised gasp Anne lets out.

There’s no time to waste. Not right now. Not when Gilbert can feel a desperate heat licking up his spine. It fills his head with a hazy kind of smoke that only brings forth one thought:

 _Anne_.

His hands hold her hips down as he drags his teeth down her navel, tongue chasing the little red welts he leaves behind. Her jeans are still unzipped so it’s a quick path to her underwear. A little patch of red fuzz peaks out when he bites the hem and pulls.

Ever since the day they met, he’s found himself drawn to the red shine of her hair. He was thrilled to confirm that all of her matched.

Gilbert sucks a mark into the skin right above that patch, making Anne squirm. The noises she lets out are fine-tuned and breathy, a trailer for the symphony of sounds he’ll extract from her in only a few moments.

He feels so uncontained right now. So _desperate_. Any other day, he’d take his time with her; he’d linger on all his favorite patches of skin (which, spoiler, are all of them) and make sure to worship the godly body underneath him.

Today is not that day. Right now, he’s never needed anyone so bad. It’s as if she is his fountain of life and he is a dying man. His only chance of survival is to sip from her lips, to taste her sweet taste.

Her jeans are gone in one second, her panties in the next. She is left in nothing but her open blouse and bra, and when he looks at her he can see the surprised heat in her eyes. The way her lips are parted and wet drives him crazy.

She’s _so wet._

“Gilbert,” She whimpers and the sound sends him over the edge.

With one hand on her inner thigh and his other wrapped around her waist and settled on her belly, he dives in.

He starts at the top, lips gently pressing against her clit in a closed mouth kiss. He kisses her once and only once before he presses the flat of his tongue against her and circles it. He can taste the beginning of her, not yet immersed in her but close enough to where she is dripping to catch the edges of it. He wants more – _so much more_ of her – and he’s going to get it.

He trails two kisses south and finds the source of his wettest dreams. She is an ocean of sin for him.

“Gil,” She breaths, hips bucking up to meet him in his enthusiasm. Her breath is laced with something so intimate, something only he has the honor of listening to. It drives him forward until his tongue sinks as deep as it will go and he feels completely enveloped by her.

She surrounds him in taste, body, and scent. Everything in his brain is blank except for _Anne, Anne, Anne_ as he fucks her to the rhythm of it. His grips her where his touch stays rooted on her skin and he hopes his palms are branding his handprint onto her. He wants the world to know she is his.

He wants to drown in her and be reborn in the water, to become new and old in the same ways she makes him feel.

It isn’t long before she’s shaking. It starts in her stomach and ripples out into the rest of her. Her thighs quiver, her toes curl, and her chest rattles as she sucks in breath after breath. She cannot keep up with his pace, with the way he drags his tongue over her again and again, determined to bring her over once with no additional touch.

She comes moments later, back arching off the bed and thighs tugging him impossibly closer. Her voice cracks in her desperate attempt to swallow back her own moans while Gilbert drinks every drop she gives him.

And when she’s done, he doesn’t stop. It’s not enough for him.

Gilbert continues his onslaught until her shaking turns to writhing. Anne twists against the bedspread, one hand anchored firmly in his hair and the other pressing against the headboard in a vain attempt to keep her rooted to the bed. Every other part of her twists. Her feet get tangled in the sheets and her hair becomes a knotted mess where it's being mashed into the pillow.

Without warning, he removes his hand from her thigh and drags it up to her entrance. He’s sat back just far enough to observe her and catch his breath. The blunt tip of his pointer finger teases her, sliding through the mix of spit and arousal that coats her folds. She’s so soft down there, so warm and inviting. He’s utterly captivated.

His first finger slips in so easily that he hastily adds a second, unconcerned about prep because he knows she can take it, vindicated by the way her voice goes from breathy to loud in less than a millisecond.

There’s a slight ache in his jaw that he’s happy to relieve, so instead of immediately diving back in he focuses his efforts on the way his fingers curl inside of her.

“Oh god.” Her head is turned to the side, now, and partially hidden in his pillow. It muffles her voice in a way that makes him want to tear it from her so she is uncensored. He doesn’t, though, because as much as he wants to see and hear all of her, he wouldn’t do anything to make her uncomfortable. Stealing her pillow for his own selfish gain would deprive her of having something soft to lie back on. “Oh, _fuck_ , don’t stop.”

He’s not planning on stopping. _Stop_ isn’t in his vocabulary right now. Not when Anne is crying out into the empty spaces of his room, shaking and thrusting her hips up into his palm.

He can’t help it – can’t help anything about himself when he blankets her body with his and sinks his teeth into the juncture of her neck. He is relentless, now, obsessed with the sounds she is making and how to draw more from her lungs.

He leans back on his calves to watch as she comes again, silent and all consuming as her body goes tense and still. This time, he does stop. If only to withdraw his hand and suck the taste of her off his fingers. She watches him from where her eyes are hardly open. He can’t handle the way she looks right now, spent and limp.

He can’t handle the way she still has clothing on.

Blindly, he crawls up the bed and tugs on her blouse until he manages to get it off. Then, he reaches under her to unclasp her bra. Anne just watches from where she lies on his bed, amused and not lifting a single finger to help as he struggles.

He’s so hard, so desperate for her that he can’t resist the temptation of her skin. He litters her neck and chest with love bites and hickeys. Little purple and red bruises dance along her skin and if someone would look closely, they might be able to see his name spelled out against the carnage.

“I want you so much, Anne-girl,” He says into the valley between her breasts. “I need you so bad.”

To punctuate his words, he rolls his hips against her thigh, knowing full well she can feel him there.

“I want to be inside of you. I want to feel every inch of you squeezing around me. You’re always so tight and warm. You’re always so wet for me. Did you know that? Did you feel how wet you were when I was going down on you? I love it so much. I love the way you taste. I can’t get enough of it.”

Gilbert licks a hot stripe up her chest before taking one breast into his mouth. She keens at the sensation, still sensitive. He brings a hand up to give equal attention to her other breast, pinching her nipple in time with his gentle bites. He knows that she doesn’t like it too rough, but still appreciates a good nibble or two.

She holds him by the back of his head as she presses into his face. It’s borderline suffocating in the best kinds of ways, satisfying a need somewhere inside of him to be close to her and closer yet. Mindlessly, he continues to rut his hips against her thigh, chasing some distant relief he knows he can’t get like this.

He needs more of her.

“Please, please, please,” She chants. She sounds almost as far gone as he feels. It’s as if they’re not even part of the physical world, anymore. It’s just Gilbert and Anne, lost in each other in the infinite expanse of the universe.

For what she begs, he is happy to oblige.

“I need you,” He answers. “Right now.”

Anne nods, speechless under his persistent attacks. It’s all the permission he needs to relinquish the rest of his control.

He rips his shirt over his head and quickly undoes the belt to his pants, shucking those off as quickly as he can until he’s left bare for her. While he undressed, she had retrieved a condom from his bedside table and is now shoving it into his hands.

She goes to adjust her position, to shift either back onto her back or onto her stomach, when Gilbert stops her. She lets him push her back down onto the mattress before he grabs her by her thighs and drags her to the edge of the bed, where he’s standing.

This is one of those rare moments where she lets him have complete and utter control over the situation, and he’s glad for it. He rarely exercises his strength over her, rarely _wants_ to, but right now the image of her being so small under him has him out of his mind. Something in the room shifts.

Before he does anything else, before he even so much as takes another _breath_ , he leans down into her space and presses a soft kiss to the swell of her cheek. “Is this alright, Anne?”

One small, gentle hand cups his cheek as she returns a similar kiss to the corner of his lips. “If it wasn’t, I’d have stopped you a long time ago.”

“I always have to check,” He says, dropping one last kiss to her shoulder before righting himself.

A small, uncontainable chuckle bubbles out of his chest and he looks down at her, so open and vulnerable and waiting. Even now, when there is this illusion of a power differential she still holds her own cards. It’s beautiful, what they have. It’s delicate, yet strong; complex, yet simple. All at once, he understands that every secret of the universe lies within Anne Shirley-Cuthbert.

With the condom on, he gets one knee on the bed and wraps her leg around his waist. The other goes up to his shoulder and he wastes little time in sinking into her.

The relief that fills him is immeasurable. He’s been thinking about this for the entire day. Every second between him waking up and Anne finally coming over, every moment Moody panicked in his kitchen, every step up to his room and across the threshold.

Everything has been leading up to this. Up to the way the pleasure curls up into his belly, then into his lungs. Up to the way Anne arches off the bed yet again, eyes glazed over and locked onto his.

Up to the way he wants to drink every last sound from her lips.

His own pleasure becomes secondary as he chases hers again and again. He has the contours of her body mapped out and knows how to angle his hips slightly up, how to set the pace and hold it steady in the way he knows she loves.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you when Moody was here.” His own voice is breathy and labored, but he feels the overwhelming need to tell her. To _keep_ telling her.

“He wanted sex advice,” He says. He almost laughs as he says it and Anne laughs, too, through the symphony of her own sounds.

“What did you tell him?”

“To make sure he’s always talking, checking in and seeing if she does or doesn’t like something.”

Anne hums, lets herself sink further back onto the mattress and Gilbert presses down, leans over her as far as he can without hurting the leg propped onto his shoulder. “So, tell me, do you like this?” He gives a particularly rough thrust and Anne’s head presses even _deeper_ into the plush of his comforter.

_“Yes.”_

“What do you like?” He whispers.

“Anything,” She pants, “Everything.”

He loves the way her chest is heaving as she talks, the way she has to practically beg the words to come out of her mouth when normally they fall freely. He loves it so much, he’s almost willing to ignore the way she hardly answers his question.

His hips slow to a gentle roll, making her eyes snap open as she registers the change from _quick, fast, relentless pleasure_ to _lazy, slow, and not nearly enough_. There’s a faint burn in the back of his legs from the way they move together and he considers it penance.

“Gil?” She asks. That one simple word, his shortened name on the tip of her tongue, has so many meanings. It is both a plea and an inquiry.

“Tell me what you like, Anne. I want to know. I want to hear you say it.”

She whines, hands coming up to grip his shoulders as her hips move against his, trying to urge him into a faster pace. He doesn’t budge, unwilling to part with the wave of satisfaction that rolls over him at the sight of her like this.

“Say it, I know you can.”

Her face burns a scarlet red and Gilbert compares it to Moody’s from earlier. He realizes how different the two shades are. Where Moody was flushed and pink, Anne is a deep, _deep_ red that sinks all the way down to the top of her chest. It brings over each and every freckle that dots her skin, highlighting them like well loved lines and phrases from his favorite books. He’d reach down and kiss them all individually if he wasn’t on a mission right now.

They move like that for a little while. Anne’s fingers dig little half-moons into the skin on Gilbert’s shoulders and he keeps his leisure, steady pace up until she’s all but sobbing from it. Every nerve ending must be on fire right now, in all the best possible ways. He has half a mind to keep it up, to see if she’ll cum a third time from this alone.

He doesn’t have to make that decision, though, because Anne finally speaks. “I like it when you bite my neck.”

To reward her, Gilbert picks the pace up _just_ a little bit. “That’s good, baby. Keep going.”

Anne’s eyes are shut tight against his stare, but he doesn’t mind. Not when she looks so beautiful, when she’s being _so good_.

“I like it when you go down on me,” She says, sighing when he grabs her hips to adjust them both. The new angle has little _uh_ noises falling from her lips every few thrusts.

“What else?”

“When you – when we’re like this and you let me ride you on top. I love that.” Her voice is getting higher, and Gilbert realizes that the more he fucks her, the more she’s able to say. It’s as if whatever was holding her back, whatever embarrassment was creeping in around the edges, is dissolving and allowing her to speak her mind freely. He chases that so he can listen to her fall apart.

“God, I love it when you let me tie you up and mess with you. You’re always so excited and so easy to tease. But – fuck – _fuck_ , Gil I love it when you get like this. When you want me so bad you get this look in your eye. You had it when you walked through the door and _I knew –”_

Whatever she was going to say gets cut off by the way Gilbert leans back and starts fucking into her _hard_. The slick sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room as the headboard bangs rhythmically against the wall. He can feel sweat pouring down his back and shoulders, sees the way it pools on the divots of Anne’s skin.

As much as he wants to listen to her talk for hours on end, he wants to see her fall apart even more.

It doesn’t take much aside from pressing his thumb into her clit. It’s so easy to push her over the edge, to watch her fall apart under him for the third time until she’s completely breathless and choked up.

When she clenches around him, he swears he sees the birth and death of the universe all at once.

He bites back his own groan and keeps his pace, watching as she falls apart around him. He’s going for the gold metal here. Breaking records until she’s nothing but a pile of goo under him. He wants to make her cum again and again until she can’t move, can’t speak, can’t walk the next day. Until the pleasure inside of her is so great she never knows anything beside it ever again.

God, he wants to bring her there again but he’s too close, now. Too caught up in his own pleasure to be able to bite back the high tide.

When she reaches up and runs her hand down his chest, tweaking one of his nipples along the way, he loses it. Before his eyes roll into the back of his head, he catches one last glimpse of her. His last thought is of the way her hair spreads out around her, creating a halo of red, red, _red._

He comes back down and finds himself on top of Anne, her leg gone from his shoulder and instead joining her other wrapped around his waist. Her hands run up and down his back and her lips leave little kisses on the parts of his shoulder that she can reach.

Absently, he finds that he’s kissing her, too. Even on autopilot, all he wants is her.

“Are you okay?” He asks, pushing himself up onto his elbows and taking in the sight of her. She has sleep in the corners of her eyes and a heaviness to the way she lays. Everything about her beckons him toward sleeping their evening away. Maybe ordering some shitty takeout from the shops in town.

“I am,” She answers, voice laced with serenity. “I am very much okay. Are you?”

“Very much,” He echoes.

He makes semi-quick work of tying his condom off and depositing it in the trash. He’d move faster if he wasn’t stopping every two seconds to kiss her knee, her ankle, her hip, or whatever else he can reach. He can’t help himself.

She giggles each time, something soft and light. When she’s like this, she reminds him of a willow tree. He’s not sure why, but there’s something so free and wonderful about her when every single bone is melted and soft.

The bed is warm where he joins her, wrapping her up in his arms and refusing to let go. Anne, on the other hand, seems to be on a mission because she grabs her phone and immediately opens Doordash.

“No way we’re cooking tonight,” She says as a way of justifying herself, unaware that Gilbert had the exact thought not even two minutes ago. He leaves a lingering kiss on her head, nosing at her hair and letting himself get lost in the scent of her lavender shampoo.

“How about Thai? We haven’t had that in a while.”

“Thai sounds perfect,” She says.

And it is. It’s always perfect with her.

**Author's Note:**

> Did someone say dominant Gilbert Blythe? No? Oh well. 
> 
> So, if you read all my of E fics (and most of my M fics, I think) for shirbert there's one little detail that exists in all of them. You know, one of those expressions or things a writer always puts into their shit and doesn't notice until someone points it out? Well, I found mind and I'm wondering who can figure out what it is. I'd offer a prize but I'm broke and we're all strangers on the internet, but if you know it I'll give you a virtual high five in the comments. 
> 
> I really do think all my modern AU fics exist in the same universe. Like. If you've read them all (and this is in NO WAY me asking you to read all my shit), do you see it? Like. This Anne and Gilbert from the beginning of their relationship to all the fun sex stuff they do. They're the same in every fic. Except False Starts bc that's it own thing entirely. 
> 
> Anywho, HUGE thank you to my beta and idea bounce board [writergirl8](https://archiveofourown.org/users/writergirl8). I literally adore her so fucking much, she is a BLAST to work with and without her, this fic wouldn't exist. We were literally spitting ABSOLUTE nonsense and I wrote a quick drabble (the first 100 or so words of this fic) in my notes app just to send to her and... well... then I kept writing it. So thank her by go reading her stuff. She's a goddess among us. 
> 
> Come chat with me on [Tumblr](http://thelazyeye.tumblr.com/) and on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/thelazyeye24)! And please, if you’re so inclined, please please please drop a comment and let me know what you thought! I literally live for feedback and validation.


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